


Ambition, Butter, and Wine

by Brieannakeogh



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, plus sized reader, reader is a little crazy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:37:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brieannakeogh/pseuds/Brieannakeogh
Summary: You’re a new First Order recruit. Trained in the culinary arts at the top schools and they dare make you serve the common folk. What happens when you have the opportunity to serve Lord Ren?





	1. Chapter 1

Scooping up a heap of bland looking mashed potatoes and plopping it on a metal tray, you idly wondered how you got here. Yes, you had applied for a position in the First Order, it was good benefits and easy hours, but you were a trained chef! They had you as nothing more than a glorified lunch lady. All predone dehydrated foods that took no actual skill to prepare and had less taste than a Wookie’s asshole. Not that you knew from experience, but you’d heard rumors. 

 

Granted it did have all the nutritional daily requirements packed into all the slop, but you were wasting away into practically nothing! Well that wasn't true. Just because all of these people had to eat slop didn't very well mean you had to. After your shift was done you always made you a little something from the ingredients they had for the Order officers. 

 

Maybe it wasn't the most ethical thing to do, but you felt you were owed this. The officers had a different chef that made their food. Someone higher up and who had worked there longer than you. His credentials however were shit. You had trained in one of the best schools in the galaxy. He was just some cook from bumfuck nowhere that got lucky and did his time, paid his dues and all that good garbage.

 

You sighed heavily as you made the next metal plate ding satisfactory to your ears in your tightly held frustration. You would keep up the meek little act until you got higher in command, then prove yourself when they all shit their pants, metaphorically speaking, at how good your food compares. 

 

The poor trooper that was receiving his spoonful from you, jumped and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead when you started to laugh maniacally under your breath. He went to the nearest trash bin and deposited his uneaten food, than ran out of the galley. 

 

Kylo Ren was in a mood. A particularly bad mood. His breakfast was ruined and during training the ‘dummy’ he was practicing on moved, which made him miss and sever the poor private’s pinky finger. He would have been fine if he had stayed still. Of course Hux didn't like that and went running to Snoke to tattle on him. 

 

A smirk comes over his lips, behind his mask, when he thinks about how Snoke dismissed his concerns. That had been the only positive so far today. Now he was making his way to his quarters, hunger gnawing at him from having forgone breakfast. 

 

He stalks in and sees the tray sitting on the table. It's the same damn thing as breakfast, some weird gray meat, but in a wrap instead of over eggs. Red clouds his vision as the tray melts in half. Now to do the same to the person’s entrails. 

 

Doing the same repetitive motion made you completely bored, so of course you zoned out. You didn't see how people started running out the door when they caught sight of the black being standing in the doorway. Didn't notice when he stalked your way in a murderous rampage. You barely paused when he stopped in front of you with your spoon held, waiting for him to present a tray for you to plop the mush on. Giving an irritated huff you finally look up and stare into the faceless visor of Commander Ren for the first time. 

 

A little bit of the potato slides off the spoon as you stare up at him, slack jawed. It neatly misses his boot and you pull your arm back quickly. One of your supervisors comes up, clearly scared out of her wits to inquire what he needed. As far as you were aware he had never stepped foot into the galley. 

 

“Food.” Was all that she got for her troubles. His head tilted a little toward the direction of the... were they mashed potatoes? You never did ask. Then back to her. “But not this.” 

 

“I don't blame you.” You muttered under breath and you think you saw just the slightest tick of that helmet to you, before you snapped your mouth shut. 

 

“I'm sorry sir, but didn't they already deliver food to you? The chef was very specific when he made it this morning.” She tried. Her voice only shook twice. You were proud of her. 

 

“It is inedible. I require something else.” The robotic voice answered. “Make me something else.”

 

“Well you see we don't really have anyone that can…” 

 

“I'll do it.” You pipped up, realizing this was your escape. If you did a good enough job, maybe it would bump you up a bit on the branch. 

 

His helmet fully turned to you. While you couldn't see them, you could feel the way his eyes raked over you. There was this saying, never trust a skinny chef, maybe that was the same judgment he came to as he nodded. The one thing you weren't is skinny. The little extra was from too much of your own food, but it was good and you didn't give two shits what others thought. 

 

The dramatic man in black just stood there, seemingly waiting on you, so you turned your back and walked into the kitchen. Solid boots against the floor told you he was at your heels. “So is there something in particular you wanted?” You ask as you root around in the ‘special’ cabinets that held the fresh ingredients. 

 

“Surprise me. If I don't like it you may get a surprise of your own.” His hand hovering over the saber at his hip. 

 

“Guess you didn't eat breakfast either. Looked to be similar to lunch.” Your brain screamed at you to stop provoking him, but you couldn't help it. He seemed all threatening but your guess was he was just hangry. 

 

He only acknowledged your statement with a metallic grunt. At least you think that’s what that noise was.

 

Pulling ingredients, you check with Mr. Murder Hungry to make sure they are all things he likes, at least raw. He doesn't actually say anything else, but the subtle head movements tell you a lot. 

 

You get going on something that would be quick but good. You have a feeling he will get even more grumpy the longer he waits. Fifteen minutes later and you are plating up a gorgeous piece of meat with a salad and roasted vegetables. Cutting the veggies small made them only take ten minutes in the oven and the rest was no time at all. 

 

Holding out the plate, he doesn't even attempt to take it. He turns on his heel and stalks away, out the kitchen doors and out the galley, you trailing behind. You follow him into what you can only assume as his quarters, where he points to a table to set the plate on. 

 

You do as instructed as he removes his cloak and gloves. Hearing the hiss from his helmet, you don't really want to see what he looks like having heard all sorts of rumors. Instead you turn to leave before a deep, “Wait.” stops you. It's a very pleasant voice when not filtered through the weird mask. 

 

Hearing a clunk, you turn around to see him set the device aside and he sits at the table. Silverware floated into his open palm, because of course he would us the force to summon cutlery. Without the mask, you can see his face, and what a lovely face it is. Everything seems just a tad bit big and exaggerated, but it fits well on his head and is proportional to the rest of his large body. 

 

Your fingers wind together, twisting into each other to almost the point of pain as you watch him bring the first bite to his mouth. This is your make it or break it moment and by it, you mean you and by break, you mean die. Literally you feel like this one meal will determine if you survive or not and honestly, you don’t hate it. The adrenaline rushes through your veins and you can hear your own blood pump in your ears. Now you understand what all the extreme sports people would go on about. 

 

He samples a little bit of everything as you hold your breath. “I expect dinner at 1900 hours. Tomorrow breakfast and lunch will be at 0600 and 1200 respectively. You are dismissed.” 

 

Relief flooded you that he seemed to actually enjoy it, but then the dread settled into the pit of your stomach that you were apparently now the personal chef of Kylo Ren. His tantrums were legendary among the crew, so you couldn’t screw this up. Hesitating just a moment and doing a weird and awkward curtsy/bow, before turning around and exiting his quarters. 

 

As soon as the plump little lunch lady he found exited his room, he gave up his pretense and devoured what was on the plate. It had been fucking ages since he had a decent meal and now that he had confiscated her for himself, he wasn’t sharing. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Your legs were practically jello as you walked back into the kitchens. The adrenaline high wearing off and making your limbs shake. Your supervisor was surprised you had made it back alive, and even more surprised when you told her about Commander Ren’s orders to you and his meal times. She promptly took you off of normal kitchen duty so you could meal plan and prepare for Ren’s dinner. This time you could go slow, take your time and really show off your skills. Cracking your knuckles you get to work. 

 

It’s a long walk to his quarters when you’re balancing a tray in your hands. You had managed to find a silver lid to go on his plate, along with a cloth napkin. Presentation could be just as important as the food itself and you didn’t just want to heap it on there all willy nilly. You had also made tea and a glass of water, unsure what he wanted to drink. 

 

You got to his door and realized your dilemma. Your hands are full, so you can’t hit the call button or knock. Not wanting to place the tray on your hip because of the drinks, you pull back your leg to kick at the door. Just as you foot would have impacted, the door shicks open and your foot goes down hard. Luckily nothing spills and you can straighten up. 

 

Walking in, you see Commander Ren has already shed his combat gear for the day and looks...well...soft. Dressed in a pair of sweats and the softest looking sweater, you are frozen stiff in the doorway, just staring at him. The sound of the door closing behind you gets you moving again to place the tray where you did this morning. Stepping back you wait politely for his approval. He sits and lifts the cover from the plate and you can just make out a small eyebrow raise as he takes it all in. You outdid yourself, which doesn’t bode well for tomorrow’s dinner but you would deal with that tomorrow. 

 

He takes a small bite and the corner of his lip twitches. The urge to bounce on the balls of your feet and do a happy dance are almost uncontainable. Almost. With a wave of his hand he dismisses you and you quickly escape to live another day. Once the doors close you let a giggle bubble up, which quickly turns into another maniacal laugh. You had done it. Skipped the line and went straight into being Lord Ren’s personal chef. Take that little man who’s food was so bad he didn’t deserve to be called a chef!

 

Kylo smirked as he he listened to your laugh and caught a little bit of your thoughts. Mostly feeling of satisfaction and a need to prove yourself above others in your field. He was surprised when you volunteered, but doing a quick search of your mind didn’t reveal any ill intent, just pride. He was curious to see if your high estimate of self worth from your cooking was accurate. It was, and he thanked the Maker he found you first before Hux. 

 

A routine was soon formed as you would deliver his meals on time, waiting for him to take that first bite before being dismissed. You would come back a little later and collect the used dishes from outside his door. Sometimes you noticed he picked through and over some of the things and you would make a note of his preferences and change the meals accordingly. 

 

That first morning when you went to deliver food you saw that he was still in his soft sweats and his hair out of sorts. He was adorable, but then you remembered he could and would kill you where you stand if he was unhappy. Adrenaline once again pumping through your veins, and you enjoyed the rush. You were afraid you were becoming an adrenaline junky yourself. 

 

Fortunately, or unfortunately as you didn’t get the rush you craved, you became less and less worried that he would dispose of you if he didn’t like a dish presented. Rumor has it that it even affected his mood. Less destruction and even more tolerant of small mistakes. You hoped it was because of your food. 

 

He had also started leaving little notes, in barely legible scrawl, requesting certain dishes again. Your chest filled with pride to know he had his favorites. 

 

The routine abruptly stopped when you went to go drop off breakfast one morning and he didn’t open the door for you. Normally it would open as you got near it, even after Lord Ren pointed out that you could have set the tray down and then buzzed his door. Which is what you did this time. No answer. Try again. No answer. You didn’t want to just leave his food in the hallway to possibly get swiped by someone else, so you settle down opposite his door to wait. After an hour you were thinking about getting up and trying the buzzer again and if that didn’t work you would take the tray back down to the kitchen as you’re sure everything will be cold and icky after that. 

 

Before you can hit the button, the door comes open and a bedraggled Ren stands before you. His face a little pale and you can see the dark circles under his eyes. “I’m not hungry. If I require something I will send for you.” He goes to step back, but your self preservation fails and you reach out to grab his sweater to stop him. It’s just a soft as it looks. 

 

“Are you sick? I could bring soup?” 

 

He stares down at the hand that is gripping his shirt and you let go quickly. He studies your face for a moment and you can feel a bit of pressure on the back of your brain. Apparently he liked what he saw rifling through your thoughts as his lip twitched again. It only did that when he really liked a dish. “Fine.” Was his answer and the door shut in your face. 

 

Good soup takes time, time you didn’t really have. He needed to stay hydrated and extra nutrients to get better. The only solution you could think of was doing something you hated doing, using premade stock. You didn’t like the idea but you also didn’t have 15 hours to let it sit and reduce down properly. It would just have to do for now and then after breakfast you can make something a little more hardy for lunch, with an actual homemade soup for dinner. Throwing together some things in a small pot, you added, tasted and refined the flavor until it was passable. Still kinda bland, but maybe that was a good thing for his weakened tummy. There was extra left in the pot, but you hadn’t planned on keeping it if you were making your own stock later. You should have done it before now because it freezes really well and can be used for multiple things. Pouring reduced stock into ice cube trays and freezing it, makes perfect portions to add to sauces and stews to give it a bit more flavor. 

 

This time when you made it in front of the door it slid open like normal. He still wasn’t dressed and you walked past him to the open door behind which was his actual bedroom. You heard an irritated huff, that you ignored as you set the try down on the bedside table. After a little digging in the stock room of the kitchen, you had found a tray that had legs that pulled out. “What exactly do you think you are doing?” 

 

“Come sit, sir.” He huffed again, but did as you asked when you said “Please.” You added a pillow behind him as he sat with his back to the headboard. You had never seen a man look so confused as you did in that moment. At least not until you plopped the tray of soup into his lap. “I’ll be back in an hour to collect it. You can just leave it on the side table, so you don’t have to get up.” 

 

You were stopped once more by his deep voice muttering something as you turned to leave. “I’m sorry sir? I didn’t catch that.” 

 

“3582” He said louder and slowly like you were dim. When you gave no indication of understanding he continued. “The door code. I’ll be asleep, hopefully, so don’t come stomping in. I’ll have it changed tomorrow.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” You smirked as you watched him take a sip of his soup. “Tonight’s soup will be of better quality, since I’ll have more time.” A hum rumbled from his chest and you took that as being dismissed. 

 

The door to his quarters closed behind you and you had to stop and lean against it. Your heart beating wildly in your chest as you thought about how you asked him to do something, politely of course, and he did! This was better than the adrenaline rush you got at the thought of him possibly killing you. A pleasantly heady feeling that made you feel dumb and weak. You took a few moments to compose yourself before going back to the kitchens, intent to get started on his other meals for the day and possibly tomorrow if he still wasn’t well. 

 

Kylo stares down at his half empty bowel, not quite sure why he gave his door code to you, or even why he was in bed with soup. He was awake when you got there. His body being use to getting up at a certain time every morning and he was trying to will himself back to sleep. When he didn’t go answer he assumed you would leave. The door buzzed two more times before it blessedly went quiet, but he could feel you out there. Concern rolled off of you in waves and he was determined to ignore it. He felt your determination to try again, and tore himself from the bed intent on shouting at you that he obviously didn’t wish to be disturbed and to leave him in peace. The words died on his tongue as he takes in your worried expression and he just pushes out a clipped response. 

 

It’s odd that you don’t feel afraid of him. That’s not quite right, you do feel afraid, which is indicated by how fast your hand goes back to your side as he glares at it gripping his shirt, but you still press on. He probes deeper in your mind, and he’s sure you can feel it happen, but you don’t make any indication that you care. In fact you don’t mind at all if it makes him more comfortable...interesting. Weakness is a liability, it can be used against him, which is why he stays in his quarters, but even pressing deeper he just sees recipes for soup and things to eat in time of sickness flash through your mind. No plans to run to Hux, or tell everyone what you’ve seen. Not even wanting to take advantage of his lack of hunger to be lazy and have an extra day of rest for yourself. He concedes to soup and goes to lay back down. 

 

It doesn’t take long before he can feel you walking back. You’re irritated about something. Opening the door out of habit, you come in and completely ignores him, going right into his personal space. No one is allowed in his room. The cleaning drones even stay out and he makes the bed himself. 

 

The ‘please’ is what gets to him. He hasn’t heard it in a very long time. Normally crew and officers alike stutter so much they can hardly get out what they need to say, let alone niceties. He pokes around in your head a bit more, plucking stray thoughts from the air. He finds out you’re irritated because you didn’t make the stock from scratch. He also sees a red line of determination that that’s exactly what you are going to do when you get back to the kitchens. 

 

Another poke and he see your brain go fuzzy like you’ve been drugged as you stuff a pillow behind his back. That can’t be healthy. He really just wants to sleep, so he gives you the code after one more mental prod. He feels your head still stuffed up and slow, so he speaks deliberately and with explicit instructions. What has gotten into you? He pokes a little further, which he knows in his state isn’t really a good thing. He just can’t understand why you are so distracted and keeps digging even as you go out the door. It just doesn’t make...oh...well then...you like it when he does what you ask...interesting. 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Kylo was in bed two more days. On the second day your mouth went tight as he declined your offer to call the medbay. You were fully aware he was a “grown adult, who could call if he needed it.” but he wasn’t doing that. He was stubborn. You felt more pressure in the back of your head again. It had been happening with more and more frequency and you just knew it was him, poking at your thoughts. You had simi given him permission to and now it was like he was in your head all the time when you were around. 

 

Everything had gone back to normal except for that. It was starting to give you a headache how frequently he was in there. You tried very hard to school your thoughts. Going over recipes in your head, measurements, the gossip of the day, anything except the two small things you wanted to keep from him. One, the fact that you had started making enough during his meals for you to have a portion, and two that you had a crush on him. It was ridiculous and it was easy enough to ignore when he was stalking around the halls in the dramatic cape and stupid helmet with his saber in easy reach, but in the morning he was so soft looking. His hair tousled and sleep still in the corners of his eyes, it just wasn’t fair that his man could go from soft cozy Kylo to Lord I’ll-kill-you-if-you-look-at-me-funny Ren. Not that you really cared as long as it wasn’t you he was killing. 

 

The first secrete was spilled one day when he decided to be ‘nice’, and drop the tray off himself since he “had to pass by anyway.” and found you eating a not as nice version of the same meal you dropped off at lunch. The pressure was back and you could hear what you thought was a snort come from the metal helmet. You couldn’t clamp down your thoughts in time to something mundane like “I messed up the first batch and didn’t want it to go to waste.” No he had to read the whole alarm bells going off on a repeat of,  **I’m a thief! He’s definitely going to kill me now!**

 

“Stop panicking. It’s a perk, not stealing.” You swear you could hear the smirk in his voice. He sat the tray down next to you and walked out. Well if that didn’t sound like permission to keep doing it, you don’t know what did. So that’s exactly what you did. 

 

The second came out one night a few weeks later. By this point you had been solely cooking him meals for 4-5 months at this time. You’re not sure what he told the other chef or officers, although you expect he had come up with some special force secret dietary bullshit excuse. Especially after what one of your coworkers...that wasn’t right….people who work near you...asked what restrictions you had. You had pointedly ignored them, but when they continued you growled out menacingly that it wasn’t any of their business and to leave you the hell alone. You made sure to run that scene on repeat in your head when you dropped off Lord Ren’s food. His lip twitched, which was the equivalent of a full grin from anyone else. 

 

Tonight wasn’t going as good as that night. In fact this went even more poorly than the first night when you walked in and he was in all of his comfortable night clothes, which he was in again. However you had gotten use to it, at least at night. You went about your business, setting the tray at the table while you waited for him to sit, have his obligatory bite, and either lip twitch or finger twitch in dismissal, depending on how happy he was with the meal. 

 

It all came to a grinding halt when you turned and saw him reach for something. You had no clue what, and it could have been a stretch for all the good your observational skills did you, because your entire focus was on the small strip of skin that had been exposed on his belly. It was pale and smooth, and you really wanted to touch it to see if it’s as velvety as it looks. Your hand even raised up a little subconsciously. That’s when you felt it, the pressure at the back of your head. At the realization that he was in your head and had seen all of the thirst, a cold shiver ran down your spine and you started stumbling back towards the exit. 

 

“Oh calm down!” He half shouts exasperated. “If I cut the head off of everyone that found me attractive, I really would have to wear the helmet all the time and Hux wouldn’t be here anymore.” 

 

“Oh.” Well thank fuck for that! Wait...did he say…

 

“Yes, now get your head out of the gutter, I’m trying to eat here.” 

 

“Yes sir.” But you couldn’t. Your brain conjuring up all sorts of things without your control. 

 

“I said…”

 

“I know sir,” You interrupted, “and I’m trying. Maybe just stay out of my head for tonight. I’ll work on it so it doesn’t happen tomorrow.” 

 

He narrows his eyes at you as he stands by the table. “Noted.” He concedes. 

 

Well if he was going to stay out maybe you could just...yep that sweater makes his arms look good. It doesn’t hurt to look while he’s locked himself out, right? And oh stars you did look. Only for a minute until he twitched his hand and dismissed you. 

 

You paused after you started to walk out, turning to face him again. “Just out of curiosity...when?” You felt another poke when he couldn’t sus out what you were asking. 

 

The smirk spread on his face had you worried. “Dinner, day one.” Was all he said and turned back to his meal. 

 

Well bantha tits, he’s known from the beginning! Than what’s the point of you hiding it all along? “Because I don’t want to hear about your sexual depravity towards my person. Your food isn’t that good.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” You acknowledged as your body crawled back into it’s skin from which it jumped, scared. As you walked out, you broadcasted ‘Yes it is.’ and sort of hoped he was still listening in. It was getting harder and harder to tell. 

 

He smirked as he bit into another mouthful. “You’re right, it is.” He said to himself. 

 

Kylo knew he couldn’t keep you as a secret forever. With all the gossip on the base it was only a matter of time before someone became suspicious. He expected Phasma would find out first, which he wasn’t oppose so much about you making extra for her, but Hux on the other hand, he wasn’t going to let that happen. The others had been dumb enough to be fooled or weren’t so foolish to question about the special dietary restriction of a force user. That had been a good idea he picked from your brain. However, the other two commanders wouldn’t be persuaded so easily. 

  
  


It happened! It finally happened! Hux had learned about you and asked for you to make his food as well. Kylo thought he was having such a good morning too, but he had seen the poorly constructed barrier in your head to try and keep him out. That wasn’t like you so of course he tore it down easily and watched as Hux cornered you in the kitchen. Of course you couldn’t turn down his request, but he could. He would march right in there and demand that Hux go back to the generic officer swill. As he watched you set the table like normal, a little bit of tremble in your hands, he uttered out a low “Mine.” that you surely couldn’t hear. 

 

He pushed in further to your mind and saw you wince in pain at the pressure. He wanted to see the whole interaction in detail, usually he only skimmed your thoughts and emotions, most of the time you didn’t even notice. This he went a lot deeper. 

 

Watching as Hux barged into the kitchen, hands behind his back and not a hair out of place. You were momentarily startled, but then ignored him in favor of the omelette you were plating up. It didn’t come out as nice as you wanted so you had set it aside to work on the second one for himself. He thought it looked fine, but learned early on you were a perfectionist. Hux grabbed the plate and started eating as he grilled you about your duties. You gave short, polite responses, but vague enough that Kylo could work with. He watched as Hux moaned around the fork in his mouth and told you to have his lunch ready too, “Whatever you were already fixing was fine.” Kylo also felt your jolt of response at the General’s moan, which made him growl out another “Mine” that you did hear. 

 

Your head was pounding so hard that you had to stop what you were doing and press your palms to your temples. It felt like your skull would explode if you didn’t keep it in place. Flashbacks of this morning assaulted you and when the same pang of lust you had at hearing the General moan hit you this time, it brought you to your knees. Lord Ren had said something after that, but you couldn’t think straight. Finally you couldn’t contain it anymore and a whimper of pain left you.

 

Kylo’s refocused on the here and now when he heard the sad noise you made, shocked to see you almost curled in the fetal position at his feet. He scrambled back into his own head after seeing enough, leaving both of you panting with the effort. Tearing into the closet after composing himself, he sees you sit up out the corner of his eye. He handled your mind too roughly. Honestly if you had less semblance of self, it could have broken you, but you seemed fine. Anger and hurt rolled from you, but that was to be expected. 

 

By the time your head clears and you can sit up properly to know you are still on the floor, you see Kylo with his pants changed and pulling his shirt off, his armor in hand. The food left untouched on the table. “What are you doing?” 

 

“I’m going to talk to Hux, straighten out this mess.” 

 

“Don’t. Just sit and eat. I’ll handle it.” You groan as you stand. 

 

“Did you just order me?” He whips around to you, armor thrown to the bed as he stands before you. Pride is what you are giving off, along with a heavy dose of ambition. If he wasn’t worried about breaking you he would be digging into your mind again to see exactly what you were thinking. 

 

“No sir. Sorry sir. I just like to fight my own battles and…” You lick your lips, trying to decide if you should say what you were thinking. Oh fuck it, you only live once right? “It also won’t hurt my career any to provide specialized meals to both you and the General.” 

 

His eyes had started to soften, he could understand wanting to fight for yourself, but then you went and fucked it up. Sharing wasn’t in his nature and your ambition was too great. He grabbed you by the upper arm, squeezing just a bit too tight and pulled you to the table. 

 

“Sit, eat. Hux ate yours and I’m going to go deal with him now. There are pain meds in the bathroom for the headache that will be on you soon.”  He went and grabbed his armor off the bed, throwing it on as he exited his quarters, leaving you utterly confused. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

It felt like forever that you sat and just stared at the plate of eggs in front of you. Somehow things had gone upside down and now you were sitting in Kylo’s quarters, expected to eat Kylo’s food at his orders. Just a few months ago you were still afraid he would choke you to death if he was displeased with how something tasted. Now you were pretty certain that you were on the very short list of people he wouldn’t murder in a blinding rage. Although if you didn’t listen to one of his orders you couldn’t be sure, so you hesitantly picked up the fork on the tray and ate the first mouthful of eggs. 

 

It was wonderful, you had made it after all, and soon you were finishing the plate, debating if he would be coming back soon to catch you licking the crumbs off. You sighed, resisting the urge, and got up to fulfill his second order. He was right, the headache was turning into a migraine and you had to squint when the harsh light of the refresher turned on. Looking around you find a little box tucked away with pain medications, bacta patches, and other first aid things. 

 

Taking out what looked to be pain reliever tabs and swallowing them with water from the sink tap. Running water on the base wasn’t as impressive as it was on the star ships. Starkiller base was full of snow and it didn’t take much heat from the machinery on board to melt it for usable water. Showers on the other hand still weren’t the norm and bathtubs were even rarer. Of course with Kylo being a high ranking, he had both and the longing you felt thinking about a hot bath was indescribable. Before you could seriously contemplate risking your life for a soak, you heard the door in the main room swish open and heavy footfalls stomping through. 

 

Scuttling out before he digs through your head again to find you, you turn the corner just in time to see him remove his helmet and run a gloved hand through his hair. That shouldn’t have been as sexy as it was and you flushed a little as you padded over to the empty tray to take it with you. You had always been attracted to power and control but this was ridiculous. 

 

Kylo called your name, which until that point you had no idea he even knew what it was, to get you to turn to him. 

 

“It’s been taken care of. If Hux gives you any trouble I want you to report it to me immediately. Use the message link if you must.” 

 

“Yes sir.” He glances down at the empty tray in your hands and then back to the refresher. “I took pain meds too. Thank you.” 

 

“I just didn’t want there to be an excuse for you to not do your best at lunch. Especially given the fact I’m your only employer.” 

 

“Sir?” 

 

“You are no longer under military jurisdiction, but directly work under me. It’s an old servant clause.” He says offhandedly, walking around the room and picking up a datapad. 

 

The rush of anger you felt at that statement couldn’t be contained. Slamming the tray back on the table with a satisfying clank, your mind raced at the implications. After everything you did to get this respected position, he just tore it all down like it was nothing. Now that you weren’t part of the First Order did you still have benefits? A salary? Leave time? What exactly did being a ‘servant’ to Kylo Ren entail?

 

“Excuse me sir, but what does being your servant mean?” You watched as his eyes flashed in anger at the disrespect in your tone, but soon had himself under a thin line of control. Apparently you were right about being on the short non-murder list. 

 

“Nothing will change. You’ll be keeping the same schedule and quarters that you have now. The only difference is if I go off world, you will have to come as well.”

 

“And what about my salary? Or medical leave? What about 4 years from now when my contract comes up?” 

 

This time it wasn’t anger in his eyes, it was confusion. You always suspected that Kylo would have a bad poker face, what with wearing that mask all the time, and it was true you could see his mind swirling behind his eyes. 

 

His mouth opens then closes tight, jaw working before he swallows. “I’ll be responsible for you. You’ll have no need for a salary and if you get sick, take whatever days you see fit as long as you inform me of them. Your contract is null and void so if you can’t stand this work any longer you are free to leave.” 

 

The shock on your face must have been evident as he looked please with your reaction. You rock back on your heels trying to think of an objection. The no salary thing was what bugged you most. “And what if I was sending money back home to take care of sick family. How will I do that without a salary?” 

 

“Family just holds you back from greatness, you have more worth than that!” He shouts. He calms himself and throws the datapad on the couch. “Do you have family you are taking care of?” The question comes out slowly and he refuses to look at you, tugging on his gloved fingers instead to remove them. You were going to get whiplash from this man.

 

The scoffing noise you make has him whipping his head back in your direction. “Of course not. You can only count on yourself in this universe, which is why I liked my salary. I do have wants and needs, thank you very much.” 

 

“I’ll be providing for your needs from now on.” Your body heats up at that statement, but you don’t think he noticed the implication. “Make a list of what you require and it will be handled. If something were to happen...to me. You will be well compensated.” You chewed on your lip as it didn’t seem half bad, and really he didn’t leave you with much of a choice. “BUT!” He turned to you taking a step closer. “Be mindful that this is a commitment. I don’t want you blubbering in a month about how you want to go home when we are stranded offworld without amenities.” 

 

“So basically you want me to follow you around, cooking and probably doing other errands for you, because if I agree, I’m not doing menial kitchen duty, and you would provide all room, board, and anything I want, as long as it’s reasonable, all for the low low price of my soul and time, forever or until you die. Did I get the gist?” 

 

“Essentially.” 

 

“I’ve got two conditions.” He nodded for you to continue. “I want a private room, with a bathtub whenever possible, no more crowded barracks with the riff raff.” He kept nodding. “And I want to destroy something with a lightsaber.” You grin wildly at him and you could tell he really hadn’t been skimming your mind because you had shocked him stupid. 


	5. Chapter 5

 

It was a couple of weeks later and you were moving into your own private suite. You weren’t sure who they kicked out to make room for you, but you felt giddy at imagining the officer’s face thinking he had been downgraded because of a mere cook. Really you hoped it was the officer’s chef who couldn’t cook himself out of a paper bag. 

 

You were still laughing maniacally as you walk into your new room, arms full of clothes that you could barely see over the top of. It wasn’t until you bumped into something in the middle of the room and arms shot out to steady you, that you realized you weren’t alone. Coughing and choking on your own laugh as you stare into the faceless visor in front of you.  

 

“I can see checking that you liked your new location was unnecessary.” You flinched a little hearing the filtered voice, some conditioned response from his reputation. The visor tilted at your reaction and you forced yourself to relax. It was just so different dealing with him in the full get up and cowl too. This man screamed danger. It was great to intimidate his enemies with but you didn’t think he was still trying to intimidate you, at least you hoped not. You were going to have to stay by his side for a very long time and with as much butter you cooked with, you didn’t think your heart could handle the stress. 

 

“No, no this is great sir! Absolutely perfect!” Stepping around him to throw the clothes down onto the bed. “I really wasn’t expecting a queen bed, or the kitchenette.” 

 

“I thought you would use it more wisely then...others that you don’t think so fond of.” The smirk in his voice evident even with the filter. You understood at once that your wish had become a reality. Not only had he provided the room you requested, but snatched it from the officer you despised. Your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile was and another cackle was drawn from you as threw yourself back, landing on the bed with a bounce and a giggle. “I also thought you could use this instead of the main kitchens so you weren’t disturbed.” He continued, ignoring your celebrating. 

 

“Yes sir. Good idea sir.” You let out with a pant once you were worn out. 

 

“I want roast for dinner, so you should get started on that soon.” With that he turned on his heel, the cape behind him billowing out. You didn’t even have a chance to affirm you heard him before he was stomping out of your room. 

 

Three weeks later your second request was fulfilled. A half a dozen layers of clothing, hat, scarf and large boots, saw you wading through the snow outside the base. You had had no reason to go outside since you had arrived so you may have gone a little overboard when you heard about the subzero temperatures. When he told you what the plan was for that day at breakfast, he had stopped you at the door to remind you to dress warmly. Taking him seriously, you were bundled up, but had a hard time moving in the over ankle deep snow. Almost tipping over more than once. You were from a warm planet, what did you know about snow or subzero temps? 

 

Kylo stood out like a black hole on the white and serene landscape. He was leading you to the woods, out of sight of the base. You wondered what the other people on duty thought as they saw you being lead out to who knows where by Kylo. “Most assumed you had displeased me and I’m leading you to your slaughter, just so I don’t have to do paperwork on the body.” 

 

You tripped a little over your feet, startled more on his answering the silent question than the contents of his words. He hadn’t been doing that much lately, skimming your mind. You rarely felt the pressure anymore. You would assume it would be because he was worried about hurting you again, but that was silly. 

 

Chuckling as you regained your footing. “No sir that wouldn’t happen. If I did displease you enough to kill me you would do it openly, in public. Probably in the galley during lunch rush, just to turn everyone’s stomach. What good is a private death if no lessen can be learned from it?” 

 

The weird wheezing that you associated with him laughing through the filter, echoed around. “A warning for your replacement?” 

 

“At that point it would be an inevitability on how the career ends. I don’t think you will kill me for an innocent mistake. If you are that enraged, I would have deserved it, I think. You like me too much otherwise.” 

 

He halts and you take two steps past him, looking back. “My food, of course.” He starts up again.

 

“You’re getting cocky.” 

 

“I’ve always been cocky. You usually just ignore it when you read my mind.” Another wheezing noise. 

 

Now the two of you are far enough into the woods that you can’t make out the direction of the base without looking for your tracks. It’s completely silent, other than your panting breaths and the steady filtered air flow through his mask. You hadn’t realized how loud just the hum of the machines were on base. The frenzied activity, deafening.

 

Suddenly a screech tore through the woods and it made you stumble back. Your eyes closed tight waiting on the impact of the ground to your butt, since you knew you couldn’t right yourself, but it never came and you felt a slight pressure on your back. Opening your eyes you see Kylo in front of you with an arm out and his angry red lightsaber lit by his side, humming. 

 

The visor shaking back and forth as the pressure on your back increased, tilting you back up standing. You realized the horrible sound that startled you was his saber activating. You’ve never been close enough to one of his tirades to hear it, but now you understood what all the fuss was about. 

 

“Useless in battle.” 

 

“I’m a chef not a fighter. I never thought I would be out on the field.” Brushing off snow that isn’t there on your clothes just so you don’t have to look up at him from embarrassment. 

 

His visor tilted again studying you. “How are you with a blaster?” 

 

You shrug, which isn’t much movement under all the layers. “I passed the basic test, but since my position didn’t require it, I didn’t try for the advanced.” 

 

“I’ll set you up with more blaster training. You might be exposed to more combat in your current position and I doubt you could run away from a fight.” 

 

Crossing your arms to your chest in indignation. “Is that supposed to be a commentary on my size Lord Ren?” 

 

The snort was clear, even through the mask. “No, your personality.” He clicked the saber off and held it out to you. “You did ask the most powerful force user in the galaxy to let you destroy something with his lightsaber.” 

 

You cleared your throat and brought your scarf over your mouth and nose a bit more to hide your face, before reaching out to take the offered weapon. He maneuvered you by the shoulders to stand in front of a stump. It was a big stump, about half wide as you were tall and it came up to a little above your waist. “Now,” He says very close behind you, the warmth at your back appreciated. “You must understand that I created this weapon, it is in tune to me. It shouldn’t fight you, but if it starts to feel off...or odd, I don’t know how it would feel to a non force user, make sure to turn it off and drop it at once.” 

 

Well that was a scary speech. “I didn’t know they could have minds of their own.” You chuckled nervously. 

 

And now the wheeze is back and it’s definitely a laugh and definitely louder than it has been before. “You people really have no idea how it works do you?” 

 

“Well excuse me for not being able to fling things around with just a thought! That would be awesome, but we can’t all be special.” 

 

You feel him stiffen behind you, hands tightening on your shoulders. “It is special. Rare. It’s also hard, trying and isolating. I am the best because I have to be. There is no room for second place. I think you understand that as well.” 

 

“Our ambition is only second to our limits, but you seem limitless to me.” 

 

“As I said, you know nothing of the force.” 

 

“But I know how to chop up a stump!” Trying to lighten up the brooding talk with enthusiasm for what you were about to do seemed to work. “So how do you turn this thing on?” Rotating it around the big shiny button obvious when you see it. 

 

“Wait!” He bites out and backs off a safe distance from swing reach, moving to stand more in front of you to watch. “Proceed, and I hope I don’t have to remind you that it cuts through anything, including bone, with ease.” 

 

You carefully hold it out front of yourself, making sure the vents are away from your fingers and the correct end is out. Pushing up on the switch produces that same screeching noise as before. For some reason you expected it to be heavier when lit, but of course that was stupid as it’s just an energy beam without mass. Having all the weight in the hilt makes it seem unbalanced. You gave a few cursory swings around in the air, being careful to not hit any of your limbs. Once you got the feel of it, you gave your best battle cry and started demolishing the defenseless stump in front of you. 

 

There was no push back, very little resistance. Other than the effort it took to swing your arms over your head, you could go on forever. A hot knife through butter flashed in your head. When the thing in front of you resembled more splinters of wood then a stump, you dropped your arms down to your side, flipping the switch to turn it off. You were exhausted, but it wasn’t all just physical. Yes your lungs burned from the cold air from your heavy pants, and your arms were sore, but you felt mentally tired too, like something was drained from you. It was eerily like when he pushed into your mind too far and too hard. 

 

Kylo removed the saber from your hand. You hadn’t even registered he walked back near you. “Did the stump have a name?” 

 

It took you a second to understand what he said, your brain a little fuzzy on adrenaline again. “Carl. Carl the stump.” It’s name wasn’t Carl, but Kylo didn’t question it. “He cheated on Mrs. Stump two years into the marriage, left her destitute. Now Carl is kindling.” 

 

“As I said, personality. I’ll have you start blaster training next week.” You nod absentmindedly. “Let’s go inside, it’s fucking freezing.” Laughing at the man who’s probably in thermal padded armor, you trudge along behind, following your tracks back to the base. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for being MIA these last few weeks. I've been in and out of the hospital and dealing with something that could be a long term thing. Well less dealing with it and just raging against it lol. Anyway please be patient with me while I get back to a normal routine and get back to writing again. Not sure what the schedule is going to be like but I'll post when I have chapters ready. Hope everyone is doing well!


	6. Chapter 6

 

Blaster training was boring. All they had to shoot at was little holographic moving targets, you weren’t even shooting at an object. On top of which it had been several weeks since the little excursion you took with Lord Ren and since then you hadn’t said more than a few words to the man. 

 

He had been working on something and seemed more irritable than normal, which you thought was an impossibility. You tried to make some of his favorites but got little more than a grunt when you would set it in front of him, usually without him even looking up from his datapad. Without the little bit of human interaction with him, it left you pretty isolated. That wasn’t a real big problem for you, but you did like to have someone to talk to sometimes. 

 

The only time you saw anyone was when you went to stock up on ingredients and most of the time you went late in the evenings. At some point a rumor started circulating of your demise. Kylo Ren supposedly killed you in a rage, dragged you out to the woods where he cut you into little bitty pieces and left you there. You didn’t hear the rumor first hand until after you ran across a stormtrooper during rounds who shouted “Ghost!” and ran the other direction.  

 

Becoming a ghost when you died always appealed to you, so what if you weren’t dead, it still sounded fun. Other than cooking a couple of meals and doing blaster practice, you didn’t have much to do, so you requested some white fabric and some make up that was a few shades lighter than your actual skin tone. Wandering down the halls with scraps of fabric and lighter make up after midnight was more fun than you’d realize it would be. Some troopers you passed just chuckled at your antics, others...mainly officers, gave a disapproving glare. The best were the ones that would run screaming down the halls. It was worth the little extra time getting ready in the evenings. 

 

Lord Ren had called you to his quarters late one evening to talk about your blaster practice. The scores you were getting were being sent to his data files so he was keeping up with your non existent improvements. You had already changed into your ghost wear when the order came in, so you hightailed it the short walk to his quarters, not wanting to keep him waiting. He was still in his uniform even this late at night and you were disappointed, hoping you would see him in his pjs since you hadn’t at dinner. You also took into account the dark circles running under his eyes. 

 

The door opened for you as you got near and when he turned to address you he stuttered to a stop mid sentence. After a brief pressure to your head, where he flipped through your mind like a book, he continued on as if nothing was amiss. 

 

“You haven’t improved at all. I’m adding another two hours to your training time, as you obviously need more to fill it, and upping the difficulty. If I don’t see any improvements there will be consequences.”  

“But it’s so boring.” You pout. 

 

“Well let’s see how bored you be next week when we’re on another planet with hostiles all around.” 

 

“Next week? What planet?”

 

“Yes we are leaving the base in four days. I don’t know yet, but I will. We have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice.” 

 

“Yes sir.” 

 

“Dismissed.” 

 

You turn to walk back out the door before he calls your name. “Oh, and just for a side bit of information, Hux should be leaving the command center any moment now.” 

 

His eyes bore into yours and you understood his double meaning. A wide grin formed on your lips and a laugh was released as you made your way in the direction of the command center. 

 

Hux ruined your fun after you scared him half to death, the look on his face was worth it and you replayed it for Lord Ren on a loop as many times as he wished. Hux had made an announcement that you were very much alive and to ignore you dressed in white. It was fun while it lasted and got you through the next few days before you boarded the starship. 

 

Your quarters were tighter than on base and ingredients were limited. If the two of you were on the ship for more than a month you would have to get very creative with your cooking and making gourmet meals out of trooper rations. 

 

Lord Ren had told you on the flight from the base to the starship that he still wasn’t satisfied with your current blaster skills. He had warned you of consequences but hadn’t explicitly told you what those would be, that gave you more dread than if you were waiting on actual torture. As you were still unpacking into your newly designated space, you rub your forehead with your fingertips as you remember the tone in his voice when he was telling you how poorly you’d done. Ok so maybe the ‘tone’ was all in your head since he still had that damnable mask on, but it felt like a tone. 

 

He had apparently found what he was looking for because the day after you boarded, the ship took off out of orbit. You could tell a bit of weight was taken off his shoulders as well. He was still tense but with a purpose. 

 

A plate of eggs and sausage was in your hand as you go through his doorway. Similar layout as what was on Starkiller base, maybe a touch smaller overall. You sit the plate down at the table and you are surprised when he walks out of the bedroom in full gear, normally waiting until after breakfast to change. 

 

“After lunch I will be personally supervising your blaster training.” He tells you sitting down and picking up his fork. “Give it your all as you will be coming down to the surface with me tomorrow.”

 

“Surface?” 

 

“Yes we will be arriving at 900 hours tomorrow, although it will be night on that planets timeline. I’m bringing three trooper squads and you. Don’t die.” 

 

“How many days are we being deployed?” Thinking about how much you would need to pack.

 

“Only for a few hours, maybe less.” 

 

“Then why am I going?” 

 

“You’ve never been in a real battle before, correct?” You shake your head. “This will be a good test run to see how you do. See real stakes. Maybe from now on you will be a bit more disciplined when I tell you to learn something.” 

 

You open your mouth to give a retort but he cuts it off with a look. “Yes sir.” Is what you change it to, but you can’t help but run it over in your mind. He’s putting you deliberately in harms way to test your training. You try to hide how annoyed you are as you leave his quarters. 

 

“You won’t be in harm's way.” You freeze in shock. There hadn’t been any sort of pressure before he answered your question, you knew he was getting better at reading you. “It’s mostly villagers with few weapons and you’ll stand by me the entire time.” He paused and his voice changed to a hard simmer. “Also, if I ever hear you truly doubt or question my orders again, whether it is outloud or in your head, you’ll find you will be desperate to not make that same mistake twice. Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes sir.” The meek little noise barely registering. A surge of curiosity rushes through you as you register what he actually said. ‘But banter and genuine inquiries are acceptable?’ You thought at him. 

 

He sighed loudly and ran his hand through his hair, tugging on it a bit in frustration. Not looking up at you he ground out, “Depends on my mood.” 

 

“Understood.” With that you turned on your heel and walked out. 

 

Your heart had just calmed down from that morning’s threat over breakfast when it was time to serve lunch. Additional blaster practice with Lord Ren was supposed to happen after so you took his plate of food into his quarters along with your own. 

 

Lord Ren was sitting in a lounge chair with a datapad in his lap when the doors came open. He was mildly surprised when you walked in with two plates of food and sat at the table beside his usual spot. 

 

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked as he sat down at the table. 

 

“You said you would be doing a personal lesson with me after lunch, I thought this would be more efficient then one of us having to wait for the other to finish. That way you could get back to trying to take over the galaxy or whatever.” Picking up a fork and digging into your food. 

 

Another heavy sigh escapes him as he watches you for a moment before doing the same. It’s of course good but more simple than you usually fix. Just a pasta salad and seared chicken in some sort of sauce. He finishes before you and sits impatiently while waiting for you to finish your food. Somehow you started with a smaller portion but took twice as long to eat it. 

 

Once you finished you went to take the plates from the table, but he just told you to leave it for the cleaning droids. He lead you to a small room on portside that was similar to one of the shooting ranges on base. Starkiller was a giant carnivorous room that housed lots of different weapons training, but you could shut yourself into one lane so as not to have anyone disturb you. This was only a single room that seemed to be only equipped to handle small weapon practice. 

 

Lord Ren had pulled on his mask before leaving his quarters so you couldn’t see his expression as he fiddled with the controls. Setting it up on probably the highest difficulty just to make you fail. “And why exactly would I want you to fail?” He asked in the robotic voice you hate, picking your thoughts up at a whim. 

 

“I don’t know sir.” You shrug. 

 

He rolls his eyes before taking the helmet off. It’s a confined area and he knows you dislike it. 

 

“If you practice on the highest setting than when you go lower it will seem easy, which will raise your confidence. That is what you are lacking.” He starts the simulation and brings his own weapon up, shooting everything perfectly. “Now you try.” He starts again and you barely fire your weapon. As you get it aimed correctly, it’s already disappearing and another pops up, the process repeating over and over until the time runs out. 

 

“Why were you not firing?” He demands. 

 

“I have to aim first and I don’t want my accuracy rating to dwindle by missing so much.” 

 

He sighs again, something he’s been doing more and more in your presence, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head pops up upon realizing a way to get through to you. “You’re overthinking. Tell me when you are cutting meat or vegetables do you think about where to place your hand, where to place the knife, at what angle to cut? No, you just do it.” You nod at his correct assessment, brows furrowing. “But I’ve done it for years, I didn’t start off like that.” You try to argue. He shakes his head. “The same can be applied here. The more you fire and miss the more instinctual it would be.” 

 

“I guess that makes since.” 

 

“Of course it does.” He’s irritated again. “Here.” He takes your arm that is holding the blaster and moves behind you. You can feel his front pressing into your back as he starts the simulation again. His command of “Fire” jolts you out of the thoughts of his warm body and he growls at you to pay attention. Restarting the program he does the same thing again, only this time when he stops the movement of your arm you pull the trigger, ending in a perfect score just like he did. He releases your arm but doesn’t step back. “Now do it again.” His hands settling on your hips, using the force to start it up again. You miss a few times to start and he can tell you’re still over thinking, so he leans down and presses his chin on your shoulder, his hot breath on the side of your face. “Stop overthinking.” He reminds you and at this point the only thought in your head is about how his thumbs are making little circles on your bare back right above your pants line. 

 

Subconsciously you’re still moving your arm and firing at the little balls that float in your peripheral vision, but all of your thoughts are on the squeeze of his hands on your hips, the way he pulls you closer to him, and you swear he brushed his lips on your neck. You’re still fuzzy and lightheaded when the timer goes off, signalling you’re done. What wakes you up and feels like cold water thrown on your face, is when he steps back and smirks. “Best score yet. Keep it up until dinner.” He throws his helmet on and leaves before he can properly hear you shout “Asshole!” to him. Even though he couldn’t hear it from your mouth, it still rings out loud through your head, along with a few other choice curses towards him. The loud wheezing laugh startles a few troopers as he walks down the hallway. 

 


End file.
